


I could live with dying tonight

by hayj



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayj/pseuds/hayj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a contented sigh, he turns his attention to the sky, which is incredibly big and blue. White, fluffy clouds move ever so slowly, reminding him of a sightseeing tour he once took while stationed overseas. A half-remembered song from a Spanish restaurant floats through his head and he begins to hum along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I could live with dying tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt#91 It's a big, blue, Spanish Sky by Chris Isaak

Bodies littered the battlefield, but he was only concerned with one in particular as he picked and prodded his way through them, clutching at the gaping wound to his gut.

 

Bloody spittle, each time he heaved a ragged breath, only accentuated the fact that It wouldn’t be long now. Thank god for that, he thought, because he was utterly, totally, done with this bullshit. It wasn’t worth anything without them anyway.

 

Finally...finally...there in the corner of his vision was a flash of honey shot, gold.

 

Tripping and sliding over yards of bloody encrusted earth, he reaches her by crawling over the bodies of countless dead Texans. Collapsing on top of her, he lays his head upon her silent chest, prying the sword out of her still warm hand. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he places a kiss upon them before pressing them against his slow beating heart.

 

With a contented sigh, he turns his attention to the sky, which is incredibly big and blue. White, fluffy clouds move ever so slowly, reminding him of a sightseeing tour he once took while stationed overseas. A half-remembered song from a Spanish restaurant floats through his head and he begins to hum along.  

 

He’s glad she left before he did. He had caused her so much pain, the thought of causing her more kills his very soul as he gathers her close, one last time.

 

The clouds continue to roll by as an unexpected shower moves through. Even the heavens are mourning their loss, he thinks, as his own tears begin to dampen her shirt. He closes his eyes, grateful that he’s with her, with all of them, at the end.

 

One year later

 

Frank Blanchard stands in the middle of a lot, just outside Austin proper, that has been neatly fenced in. Off to the right, chairs, and a podium are waiting as various dignitaries and the like begin to arrive for the dedication ceremony. It would be time for him to take his place shortly, but for now wants a moment to pay his respects.

 

A large tomb stands here now. The resting place of the last remaining members of a family that died in that final push against the Patriots. Every last report told of how they had died arm in arm, their bodies found entwined upon the battlefield.

 

He might not consider himself a religious man, but Frank certainly wasn’t going to screw with that omen. He ordered that they be buried together in a special handmade casket, interned together, here where they fell. Hell, he’d even gone so far as to have the sentiment etched upon the stone door.

 

“Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried.”

 

Looking up at the big, blue sky above, Frank grinned and laughed at himself as a jolt of electricity ran the length of his spine. With a shake of his head, he made his way to the podium, pulling the tattered papers of his speech from his pocket.

 

 


End file.
